A Tender Thing
by Elsie girl
Summary: This story focuses more on our favorite supporting characters:the twins, Snape, Remus, Luna, etc as they each begin to unfurl part of a mystery in Harry's third year, a mystery in the form of a tiny first year who is silent following the murder of her family. But with everyone so set on Black, will they miss a secret from their pasts that may have the power to change their futures?
1. The Sort

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Entertainment purposes only.

A/N: Thanks for reading! The next couple chapters are pre-written, and I can't wait to post if you are interested. Sorry for any errors. Please review!

Chapter One: The Sort

Remus Lupin's senses were teasing him.

The mountains of food had yet to appear, but Remus could smell them under the stone floors, waiting to be magically transported from the kitchens to the five tables in the Great Hall. One sniff of the air and he knew all their wafting smokes and overflowing juices. It had been too long since he had eaten as well as he could tonight in this warm hall.

He could already taste the flaky pastries, the rich puddings. If he was lucky, there might be chocolate. He hoped it was only he who could hear the rumble of his eager stomach, paying his neighbor a small smile of apology just in case.

He could hear every word of the excited chatter of the students too alongside the soft lull of professor Dumbledore's voice assuring someone about something in the way only he could, in the very way Dumbledore had assured him they could protect Harry from Sirius, the same way the old man had assured Remus the placement he'd accepted was right for him. Teacher. Hogwarts Professor of Defense against the Dark Arts.

Remus Lupin's skin tingled with excitement. The suspended lights and night sky ceiling reminding him of his first time in that room, his small fingers tugging through his hair, wondering if anyone could see his secret.

It seemed to him the anticipation was thicker than usual, more like fear, real fear. The darkness and cold of dementors was closing in around them; somewhere outside Sirius Black stalked the night; and there was something else…beyond even his senses.

His long fingers involuntarily ran through his greying hair as the children entered.

They looked so small. Surely this was a new breed. He knew he was not so small when he was their age. How could the parents send away something so young and defenseless? He felt a wave of protective instinct flush through him. Dumbledore smiled over at him, as if he knew his prediction had come true. The wolf would surface for the good, the headmaster had said, but Remus had never dared hope that might actually work.

It was like they were all his to protect, like he'd easily kill for any one of them as they stumbled up to the stool and the musty old hat.

And then his senses teased him again. He caught a whiff of something else on the air through the heavy scent of the food. It was familiar, like Harry's scent, Severus', Arthur and Molly's kids. But he couldn't place it.

It was the child approaching the sorting hat. He searched her face for familiarity, recalled the name just announced, but he did not know her.

The girl walking up the steps was one of the smallest of her year, but she wasn't walking carefully as if afraid. She was, however, walking quietly. Then he noticed— she was barefoot. There was a small gasp and a few murmurs as other noticed. How could someone send their child to school with no shoes?

If she noticed the eyes on her or the whispers, she did not let on, but was focused instead on managing to climb onto the stool, and Remus felt a jerk behind stomach of instinct to go up and help her.

She managed it herself, though, the hat falling down to her jawline. Long waves of golden hair cascaded behind her. That and her dripping, black traveling cloak was all he could see of her while the hat decided.

Gryffindor, he guessed. Usually his acute senses told him which houses they had the best chance of getting. Usually.

But Remus Lupin's senses were teasing him.

"Ravenclaw!" The hat shouted with confidence.

Tiny toes reached down to the floor, and she plopped from the stool soundlessly. Again, he sensed something familiar, but there was nothing to grasp. She plodded her way to the table, crawling onto the bench and turning golden eyes to the front of the room.

They were too light brown to be truly brown, with a ring of darker hue in the center, flickered with bits of what looked like the metal itself, or so his senses perceived. The specks caught the light the same way as her hair, everything else about her small and non-descript.

The room seemed to have forgotten her shortly as the sorting ended and the feast appeared. The food was not the only thing to have finally arrived.

Again, his eyes seemed to trick him. Remus could see Harry Potter, a young boy at the Gryffindor table with his friends, but he kept thinking he was looking back in time, staring at James. The eyes, though, glancing up at the head table and at Remus, were Lily's, and Remus finally had to look away. Severus noticed. Severus always noticed.

He could smell Harry too, thanks to the wolf. The scent was a little like James a little like Lily and a little like the Leaky Cauldron too, he thought, for some reason. The boy was still clammy from his fainting spell with the dementors, but children were resilient, and they seemed to have already recovered.

He eyed the small girl several times during the feast, sitting quietly and devouring her food the same way he did-savoring each bite, careful, as if afraid it might disappear.

She was too small, he thought.

"I don't understand it, Albus." He could hear Minerva's anger. "Sending her without any shoes. Could she have lost them?"

"You needn't worry about Miss Green." Dumbledore said. And in the corners of his mouth, there was a slight smile.

She was looking at the headmaster, Miss Green, the one who smelled familiar. She looked down then, seemed to shrink to hide herself amongst her new housemates.

Remus thought he sensed something else too. He thought she looked as though she had a secret, but his senses were teasing him.

-000-

"Have you lost your shoes?" Luna asked the little first year who had yet to speak. She had fallen into the throng of people in black headed towards the tower and was jostled by the excited crowd into Luna Lovegood who wandered like it was all new to her as well.

The girl looked surprised someone was speaking to her, then shook her head.

"Well, let's see if we can't find them for you." She took her small hand. This too seemed to take the new student off guard, but she squeezed it a little and held on anyway.

As they caught up to the prefect and other first years, Luna whispered, "The password is always a riddle. Today it's what is: 'say my name and I disappear; what am I?'"

The girl made no reply. "Right! Silence."

And they were inside the tower, being swallowed in a sea of pillows and rugs and tapestries of the deepest blue. A spot of moonlight spilled down into the round room from the windows. Luna tugged the girl's warm, little hand through the masses surveying the room to go straight upstairs to the girls' first year dormitory.

"Which one's yours?" Luna asked as they looked at a row of identical beds. For a moment, it seemed too hard a riddle, but then she let go of the older girl's hand and approached a bed where there sat a book in rugged condition, a leather bookmark inside.

Rummaging through the unopened trunk and the never-before-worn garments, never opened books, Luna found a pair of black boots. "Here they are."

The girl tugged on some wool socks from the trunk, and the blonde pulled the boots on, lacing them. "Perfect fit. I suppose you're a princess now." She teased in a matter-of-fact voice.

Another girl setting photos by her bed looked at the older Ravenclaw as if she was raving.

"You are in castle. That makes it official." Luna laughed. "You know we have a choir, meetings nearby. Flitwick runs it; you'll like that. If you don't talk, maybe you will sing."

The other girl scoffed. "Are you mad?"

"What?" Luna asked, mystified. "Birds do."

The girl moved away to speak to someone else, the strangeness making her wary.

The child with long golden hair and warm eyes did not seem wary. She beamed up at Luna fully impressed, gratitude shining. She breathed in, about to say something it seemed, but then thought better of it.

"Night, little birdy. My name is Luna, not that you'll need that. I suppose you'll find me when you need me." Luna turned to go, other girls already whispering behind their hands, unsure which was stranger.

"Oh, I just realized." The third year spun back, hand on the doorknob. "How will you get in without the password?"

"Maybe," mumbled a very pretty first year with dark hair. "You can just leave a window open and the bird will fly in." The others giggled.

"Right." Said Luna. "Of course."

a/n: Thanks for reading! Love to know your thoughts. Lots of Lupin coming up next...


	2. Instinct

Disclaimer: Again, all this belongs to the wonderful JK Rowling. The new character is all mine.

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! I cannot tell you how wonderful it is to know someone somewhere took a moment to give this a try and maybe even enjoyed it half as much as I do. And thanks to those of you who reviewed! I know much had not happened, but any thought you can take a second to share is a great encouragement and insight. As promised, Remus!

Chapter Two: Instinct

"Professor Dumbledore, Sir?" Remus inched his chair closer to the headmaster on the first morning of classes.

"Hmm?" The headmaster replied absentmindedly over his breakfast sausage and The Quibbler. The newest professor might have been preoccupied by any numbers of concerns, but only one question demanded to be asked aloud.

"It's about that student, the first year. Miss Green."

"Oh? What about her?" He glanced up from his reading with mild curiosity.

"I sensed something about her."

The older man only raised an eyebrow.

"Smelled something actually." He lowered his voice as much as he could. Dumbledore understood, but said nothing. "Well, it's just," Remus pushed. "Is she—I mean does she have…is she _like_ me?"

Dumbledore's amused glint surfaced in his eye a moment. "Like you?"

"Is there another reason you wanted me here this year?" He tried. Dumbledore would not deny admittance to someone just because of their _condition_, but it was something one could endure more readily with some sort of help, say perhaps even a teacher. He had been quiet and underdeveloped too when he had arrived, the moons weakening him.

"My dear, Remus," He folded away his reading, being quite serious. "I have always wanted you here."

Lupin's polite smile and lifting shoulders did not begin to express the wave of warmth he felt at those words. It was rather like a good bite of chocolate in the wake a dementor.

"Thank you. What I mean is, the girl is she, that is, does she have the same _problem_?"

Dumbledore looked down a little darkly, but his tone was unconcerned. "No, not that I know of, but you say you smelled something canine perhaps?"

"I'm not sure what it was," he shook his head. "But it reminded me of, well, it was very familiar, but I'm certain I don't know her or her family."

"No," He thought again, a long finger on his lips. "Perhaps then you could keep an eye on her for me, Remus. I've rather got my hands full what with that friend of yours' child." He nodded towards the Gryffindor table, his slight smile back in place.

"Of course, professor." Remus returned his smile. His eyes darted automatically to Ravenclaw table. One small, golden head first year sat alone at the table, nibbling her breakfast. Swinging under her back and forth were a pair of shinning new, black boots.

He breathed deeply. Leather. Grass. Hogwarts linen. Innocence. Something about her smell was very familiar, too familiar.

She turned then and looked at him.

-00-

"Welcome to Defense against the Dark Arts!" Remus held open his arms, beaming at his nervous first years. They squirmed in their seats, especially the Hufflepuffs. Several Ravenclaws had their books out, quills at the ready.

"This class is about learning to recognize danger and then defend against it. So first things first, shall we?" Hands in pockets, he moved to the front of the room. He had their attention as, with a swish of his wand, he removed black cloths from six glass orbs at the front of the class. Some people jumped, a few gasped, and several boys leaned forward in their seats.

He was silent, a grin playing at his lips, as he held them in suspense another moment, taking them all in. She was there, the familiar one. The flecks like gold leaf in her iris were close now.

He broke eye contact. "Now sometimes, we are taught to avoid something because it's dangerous, like this." He pulled from his pocket a dangerous weed, a poison. They were murmurs or recognition around the room. He flipped it between his long fingers, watching them, before pocketing it again.

He moved to the window, opening it. "Others," he stared into the distance to the dark corners near the forest where the dementors lingered. "We can sense something, instinctively, deep within that tells us, not this. This is dangerous." He turned to them. "Run. Hide."

"Now!" He clapped his hands together, smile returning. "Today we are going to see using what we know and our own instincts how good we are at spotting danger. At the front of class are six displays. I want you to go in rows to the front of the room, without talking, please." He walked to the front to demonstrate exactly. "I want you take a small stone and place it in the glass bowl next to each exhibit. I won't know how you answered individually, so no need to worry about being wrong.

"Put in a red pebble for dangerous, a blue one for somewhat dangerous, and a green one for safe. Then, take your seat, and again, no talking. We can't have anyone giving it away. Now go on!"

They thought very hard about their answers, often taking so long their classmates got restless and annoyed. He was able to watch her through this. Her instincts and knowledge played a role, certainly, but if there was a wolf, it would recognize them all.

At the first station, she examined the dark mixture, lights seeming to move around in it, pulsating, disappearing. She dropped in a red pebble. Folding his arms as he leaned against the wall, he pretended not to be watching.

The next one was blue, then red, blue, green, and the last one he missed while defusing an argument between a Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw at station three.

"Alright, let's see how we did." He rubbed his hands together. He held up the first glass bowl, mostly filled with reds and blues. "This is deluarean mist. Very, very dangerous."

There were groans from those who got it wrong. He lifted the next one. "Now these I see many of you recognized this. These little pixies are small, but they can be extremely troublesome, and they bite, so they are somewhat dangerous. Blue was the correct answer." She got that one right as well.

She was not excitedly telling her neighbor, nudging them with an elbow or smiling across the room. She was not smiling at all or saying a word. She watched him intently with her kind, golden eyes.

"Now, this one looks gentle enough, smells nice even." He inhaled the perfume of the delicate pink flower. "But even smelling too deeply will make you ill, and a bit of petal mixed in with your tea leaves will kill a full grown man."

"Told you!" One Ravenclaw boy informed his mate. There were laughs, then shushing. Anna Green was correct again.

"Here we have a potion. This particular one, like the effects of many potions can be used for good or ill. Also with potions, as I'm sure professor Snape has or will teach you, when brewed incorrectly, they can either be very deadly or completely useless, which, depending on their use, can either be a good or bad thing. Therefore, this particular potion can be harmless or very dangerous." The correct blue stones were scarce, but one was hers, he knew.

Her eyes were trained on the next contained sample. The average looking pearl sat on a pillow. To anyone slightly sensitive, the darkness emanating from it was palpable. One touch and they would be cursed.

"Many guessed correctly. The curse on this pearl is extremely powerful. Many of you felt that." She had. "Well done."

The room was silent as he stopped at the last station. He waited a moment. From his pocket, he took a glove, tugging it on one hand. He lifted off the top of the glass container, reaching towards the pillow inside. He could hear the gentle ticking of the watch, sharp intakes of breath as he pressed it in his fingers. He rubbed it, examining it. "This," He held it up for them to see, "This students," he paused, letting his smile spread slowly. "Is a simple, ordinary watch."

"What? It's not cursed?"

"Oh come on!"

"I knew it!"

Anna sat back in her seat, looking satisfied.

"Quiet!" He held up his hands. "Quiet. Clearly, we all have something to learn, but not to worry. That's why I'm here. Better to learn about all this is Hogwarts, where you're safe. You _are_ safe here." He reminded them, looking several in the face. His eyes rested on hers. Had she gotten the last one right? "You're dismissed."

He returned the watch carefully to its glass box. Slipping off his glove, the scent behind him was so strong it made him turn. Anna Green stood there, books in hand.

"Can I help you, Miss Green?" He asked nicely.

She did not respond, at least not in words. Instead, she plucked a single stone from the table and dropped into the now empty bowl by the watch. Red. Very dangerous.

Gold eyes caught his for a moment, and then her head was down and she was on her way out before his open mouth could form words.

She had understood. Was it because the watch was dangerous to her too? Because it was silver. 

A/N: Hope you are enjoying it so far! Anything in a review is helpful-just letting me know you're out there waiting for the next chapter, suggestions, guesses as to what is coming or who you'd like to see. Can't wait to share more! Severus, anyone?


	3. Frog's Blood

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine at all.

A/N: Thanks for all the reads and the great reviews! I appreciate your time, and I think you will enjoy where this is headed...really anxious to get to the juicy bits. Any guesses as to what's going on?

Chapter Three: Frog's Blood

Severus Snape slammed the door shut behind him, silencing the chattering first years. He was not in the mood for their anxious tittering. He'd already had to put up with seeing Remus Lupin at breakfast, James Potter's miniature in the hall, and the damned dementors were making his mood even fouler; those, he reminded himself, were the fault of Sirius Black. It was if all of Hogwarts were going back in time, only the one person who made such a time bearable was nowhere to be found. Nowhere.

"There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class." He announced as usual. At the conclusion of his speech, he directed their attention to the board. "You will follow these instructions _exactly_ and you will do so silently. Stopper and name your potion and hand it to me when you are finished."

He watched them work. Several worked too fast with unsteady hands. The slower ones, the ones taking great care, those were the ones whose work was worth anything.

Standing over one Hufflepuff's shoulder, he thought the boy would do better to use the broad side of the knife. He noticed a Ravenclaw girl a moment later who had caught on to just that. He thought how she was the one who had been missing her shoes; she was wearing shoes then. When he rounded her desk and saw she was just two stirs away from being finished but that she was having trouble peeking into her cauldron. He thought she was about to spill, but she paused, climbing on top of her stool with care and finishing perfectly.

Before he could award any points even if he had wanted to, the child next to her became a sniveling wreck. His potion was swirling like a cyclone and changing from green to purple. He was trying to fix it, but was making it worse.

"You there." Snape snapped, making many of them start. "What was the first ingredient you put in?"

"I—I don't know, sir." He fumbled, tugging his short hair in a panic.

"Look at the board, you ridiculous child. Well, what is the first ingredient?"

"Powdered root of—l"

"Wrong." He said. "That was the first ingredient you were _supposed_ to put in, and judging by this potion you did not. Now, what exactly did you put in?"

"I don't remember." He actually looked as though he might cry over one stupid potion in a controlled environment.

"Our failures are wastes if we learn nothing from them." The potions master sighed.

"I—I failed?"

"Anyone?" Snape ignored him. "You, Ravenclaw." He called out the girl next to him who was finished. She looked up with light brown eyes, plain face surrounded by red gold hair. "What did your neighbor do wrong?"

He waited patiently even for him, but the child would not answer.

"Well?" He demanded. She flinched, but continued to look him in the face without speaking. "Which ingredient did he mistakenly put in first?"

The answer was obviously frog's blood. He'd made that clear. The book made it clear. Even a glance at the board allowed the chance of a correct guess. She wasn't wavering or bursting into tears. She just was not answering. Severus felt his anger bubble.

"Which. Ingredient."

"Frog's blood!" Someone shouted, unable to take the tension anymore.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw!" He shouted, spying the speaker's blue scarf. His eyes snapped back to the calm light, brown ones of the quiet girl. They had little specks of light in them. "Now, tell us, miss, what was it again?"

She looked around a bit but remained utterly dumb. He swore they got dumber every year, but this had to be some mistake. Dumbledore would never allow a complete idiot to come to Hogwarts, and obviously she had read the board.

"Have you been spelled or something?" He whipped out his wand.

"Just answer!" The other student hissed, clearly afraid for her.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw, for your silence Miss—what's your name?"

The girl did not answer. The nerve. Mouths fell open.

"Ten more points! Now you will tell me your name."

Nothing.

"Ten more points from Ravenclaw." All eyes were fixed on them. She squirmed, eyes beginning to water. She looked at the floor.

"Twenty points!" He boomed over her.

"But sir!" Someone protested.

"Thirty!"

"What's she doing?" They whispered, glaring at her. "Why won't she answer?"

She only stared at the floor, at her shining new, black boots.

"Miss! If you don't answer me in the next three seconds, it will be forty points from Ravenclaw."

The was a gasp, then silence—save the popping sound of nails bitten to their beds and the creak of wooden stools as student about to fall from their seats. Snape loomed over her darkly, waiting for her to break. Her mouth seemed to struggle to open, breaths working up, but when she looked up, her eyes glistened, overflowing with tears. It shook him a moment. It looked like someone had melted down the gold.

The eyes were kind, but old and bit sad, as if trapped inside a tiny body. But it was none of this that stopped him; it was their expression. Help, they said. Her mouth opened, and closed and her eyes stayed wide.

"For Merlin's sake! Finish your potions and get out!" He spat at them, pivoting, robes whipping behind him.

There was only one way to sort such a thing.

"Headmaster, I need to talk to you about a first year." Severus demanded as he strode into the office, the shoulder of said first year's coat in his fist. "Forgive me, I did not realize—"

Professor McGonagall cut him off, "You needn't leave us, Severus." They weren't the only ones concerned; other professors had arrived already. They eyed the Ravenclaw girl knowingly.

Severus released her as he hissed, "I have one first year that refuses to answer questions pointedly put to her. The simplest question, headmaster. Will not even answer so much as her name. She's not been spelled."

"Miss Green," Dumbledore's voice interrupted softly, one hand hovering over his desk silenced Snape. "Does not speak, Professor."

"What?"

He glanced at the other teachers who seem perturbed but not surprised.

"She does not speak." Dumbledore repeated. "You may be dismissed, Miss Green." She hurried away. Severus took a moment to recover.

"You mean I just took away 120 points from Ravenclaw because no one bothered to mention the girl was MUTE!"

"Oh, she isn't mute, Severus." The headmaster explained simply. "I have no reason to think she cannot speak. I said she does not speak."

"Preposterous! How is she to go her entire magical education without speaking?"

"I would have thought that would be more of a blessing than a burden in your classroom." His eyes twinkled over his spectacles.

"But it is my concern." Minerva confessed.

"Indeed." Someone echoed.

"And then there's the matter of her lack of care. Sending a child to school with no shoes!" The transfiguration professor began.

"Miss Green," Dumbledore said sadly. "Has no family, and she has not spoken since her family was murdered." The room fell silent. "But she is very clever, and she does have magically ability she will need to learn how to use. She will find a way to manage in all your classes, I assure you. In the meantime, do your utmost to ignore it entirely. Treat her no different than you would anyone else."

He began to scribble something, which meant that conversation was over. The teachers exchanged uneasy glances.

"But Albus," Professor McGonagall began. "How on earth am I to do that?"

He took a thoughtful moment to answer. "If we received a student with magical ability who was blind, would we not do our best to help them become a young witch or wizard?'

"Well yes, but—"

"And if that child had wilfully blinded themselves, would we be any less willing to teach them whatever we could?"

She fell silent.

"But what's the point, headmaster?" Snape asked gently, but in earnest. "She'll never be able to finish."

"Then perhaps you're right Severus. Shall I just return her to orphanage where I found her then?"

He had no reply.

In the weeks that followed, Miss Green turned in all her homework. Her essay responses were correct and well written, her potions well above average. She would nod yes or no if a question was put directly to her, or even indicate which ingredient or utensil was required if asked and it was on hand. Since she was probably failing every lesson besides potions and astronomy, Snape felt no hesitancy in giving her the grades she had earned in potions.

The class had clearly not forgiven her for losing them so many house points, but Ravenclaws were even less forgiving of her out-performance of them. He could do nothing about it, even when he was fairly certain Mr. Sallis had poured vinegar into her cauldron to ruin what would have been a simple draft.

Particularly annoyed at the chattering and ineptness of his class, he informed them, "I would greatly appreciate it if all of you would study carefully the great skill which Miss Green has in the art of silence and dedicate yourself to the study of mastering it. Since none of you can manage a simple anecdote that way hopefully no one will want to poison you."

And for that, he got a brief but bright smile amongst the scowls. He caught it in the glance up from his work. It was gone as quickly, but it had been there.

A/N: Thanks for reading. Please, please take just a second to review!


	4. Birds and Feather and All That

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters. Harry and friends belong to J.K.

A/N: Thanks again to all my readers and reviewers. You are lovely and all feedback was devoured hungrily. As promised, we are heading somewhere...This story is a bit of an experiment for me, but I'm very excited about it. Please, let me know you're reading and your thoughts. It's a major help and the more I hear the faster I tend to write/ up-date!

Chapter Four: Birds and Feathers and All That

Professor Rubeus Hagrid was lumbering over to his beautiful hippogriffs, Fang in tow, when he saw her for the first time.

"What er you doin' down here?" He called ahead, waving to the tiny student inside the pen. She looked over at him unstartled, petting one of the beasts.

"Be careful!" He started, fearful of another incident following the Malfoy disaster. He stopped. "Well, he likes you doen' he?" Hagrid smiled in relief. This kid seemed to have some sense about her at least. "What's your name?"

She blinked a few times as if the question was hard.

"I'm Hagrid." He tried again, nudging his own chest with a thumb. She glanced down. He tried clearing his throat, looking awkwardly around, his great arms swinging. Buckbeak looked at him as if to ask what was wrong with him.

The child who had to be a first year given her size, shifted uncomfrtably. "No need to be scared o' me." Hagrid took a step forward.

She stopped stoking the feathers of Buckbeak and stared up at the groundskeeper, unafraid. Her eyes caught the light straining through the trees and clouds. Where others noticed only the gold shimmering there, Hagrid saw the tracks made by dry tears on her cheeks. They were familiar enough to him. He never had an eye for gold. Misfits, though, he could spot.

"Not fond of talking are ya'? That's alright. I'm used to it. Not a word out of these." He pointed his big fingers at the creatures in the clearing, chuckling softly. She smiled.

"Wanna give me a 'and?" He asked curiously. She nodded several times to his pleasant surprise. The small girl struggled with the feed bucket, so he poured half hers into his. "They love these as treats, though they're mostly meat-eaters, this helps those lovely feathers." He ruffled them affectionately.

The animals seemed to sense, the way beasts often could, that they needed to be careful with her. They did not take advantage, bullying the food away, but were more patient and gentle when they took food from her. Hagrid meanwhile swatted the rudest of his little herd back when they tried to steal it from him. "Now I told you not do be doin' that 'ector. Or you'll get nothin', you cheeky devil." He threatened hollowly, earning him a snapping beak.

She moved meaningfully, slow, as if little weights were hung of her thin limbs. He kept a close eye on her, as all around her was so big, and she was so alone, it looked as though everything around her—the woods, her clothes—might swallow her up.

"We best head up an' get our dinner." He said, returning the buckets. She brushed her hands clean, reluctantly glancing towards the castle. "Won't your friends be missing you?" He guessed. She shook her head, long golden ringlets shaking like a mane.

"Tha's alright." He tapped her gently on the back. Well, he thought it was gently, but she stumbled forward a little. "Sorry! Us misfits have to stick together. Maybe if you wanted, you could help me with some of my animals." He offered. Fang licked her hand.

She nodded.

"Well there, then! I could use some help, I could, having two jobs now. Got my hands full, I'll tell you." He bluffed. "Might be a bit messy." He warned her. "Do ya' mind?"

She shook her head, still smiling in the soft way with no teeth showing.

"Good, and if you can keep a secret, I might even let you go into the forest with me." He leaned over with wink. She perked up further at this. "But you'd have to be careful an' stay close to me, and it'd be best if you didn't tell no one I took you in there. Can you do that?"

She shot him a skeptical look it took a moment for him to comprehend. "Oh right." He snorted. "I guess you can keep a secret. I'll bet ya' know a few too. You're a tempting one to confide in, knowing secrets aren't going anywhere." He pulled open the heavy door for her to walk inside. She nodded again. Then, she disappeared into the sea of taller children with whatever those secrets were.

-00—

It was the first lesson with his new batch of birdies, Ravenclaw first years, that Flitwick had noticed.

"Now students!" Professor Flitwick said, standing on top of his desk. His first years quieted, nervousness retaking their faces. "Let's begin with one of the foremost skills of witchcraft and wizardry. Can anyone tell me what that might be? Anyone?"

A Ravenclaw with black hair raised her hand quickly. "Levitation."

"Correct! Ten points to Ravenclaw. Today we will be learning how to make objects fly!" At this dramatic flourish, he lifted his feather into the air with his wand.

They watched wide eyed, bewildered some of them, others hungry or curious. "Swish and flick, like so. Watch carefully. And annunciate. Who would like to go first?"

Several hands shot up at once, black haired girl included. He seemed to recall she was a Worhold. He surveyed his newest class, eyes falling on the small girl, the one with golden hair.

"You there." He said with a smile. She held her wand and watched. She said nothing.

"You there. Go on, my dear." He encouraged her. "Give it a try."

She looked silently down at her feather.

"Go on, it isn't so hard." With a swish and a flick, he lifted his feather in to air.

She nudged at her, chewing her mouth. She wasn't trying, not really. She slinked backwards into her seat, still not saying a word.

"Sir?" A boy leaned forward.

"What is it, son?" Flitwick asked.

"She can't speak, Sir." The skinny boy with lots of freckles all but whispered.

"I beg your pardon, my boy?"

He repeated. "She can't talk is all." He shrugged shyly. "She can't say the incantation."

"What do you mean she doesn't speak?" He shook his head, not understanding.

"I don't know." The boy shrugged.

The pretty dark haired Ravenclaw girl informed the teacher: "She's weird or something, Sir. There's something wrong with her."

Said girl slumped a little in her seat, but said nothing. "That's no way to treat a shy housemate!" the charms teacher admonished.

"No honest! She has to wait on someone to get in the common room and all."

Professor Flitwick looked at the blond girl, hearing the room fall quiet. "Well then," he tried, but words failed him. "Well then." But what could he do with her? Surely she was just shy. If Dumbledore had known she was mute, surely he wouldn't have…and wasn't this the girl who had no shoes on during sorting? He would have to speak to the Headmaster about this pupil.

"But I can demonstrate, professor." The pretty dark haired Ravenclaw offered. Thoughtful for a moment, he agreed. "Very well, miss Worhold. Go ahead."

The first year's confidence was not misplaced. He knew when someone had practiced at home. "Exactly!" He praised. "See? Impossible becomes quite possible. Go on and practice." He told the class. For the next half hour they attempted, all but one of his own house, to levitate their feathers with mixed results. Many were successful, and only one caught fire.

"Just watch the others for now, dear." He murmured to the littlest one before he had to dash off. "Careful Miss O'Ryan! You there! Mr. Havershaw you seem to have it well in hand. Ten points to Hufflepuff!" All in all, It was not a bad class. When class had ended, since the quiet girl was of his own, Flitwick went to her as the room cleared.

"My dear, why don't you give it a try? Swish and flick. Now, concentrate very hard. Swish and flick." Slowly, she pulled out her wand once more. "If you concentrate very carefully you may be able to do it without words." He laughed a little. "Some very practiced wizards can do this spell without saying anything." He showed her with a single swish. The feather hovered above the desk, then returned to rest on it again.

She sat again, staring at the immobile plume. She took out her wand and pointed it, fidgeting. Her eyes were intent, a strange almost yellow light brown as she set her chin on the table. She chewed the inside of her mouth, seeming to deliberate.

The boy who had spoken for her lingered in the doorway, watching.

"Try," the teacher whispered, ignoring the hidden audience.

And closing her eyes, she focused very hard. He watched the feather lift itself from the desk.

Whatever words came up at first he choked on them in surprise. Then the breath was sucked out of him as he saw around the room every single long, white feather lifting into the air and hovering their above them.

His laugh caused her eyes to fly open. Golden. Her eyes were golden, too light to be brown with flecks of what looked gilt.

"Wow." Came the soft breath of the boy by the door. Wow was precisely what professor Flitwick thought, having never seen anything like that on the first day even from a Ravenclaw, but that amazement soured inside him. There was a scraping sound, clicking, a faint clatter as chairs, ink wells, desks everything that was not fixed to the ground joined the feather in the air.

She had allowed herself a small grin just on one side, but when she saw her teacher's expression, when they were face to face, the smile fell away, and the objects fell all at once in a crash.

She hoped down, hurrying out the door before he could collect himself.

"Well done!" He called after her and the boy's pattering footsteps as they ran to their next class. But if he could hear the fear in his voice, she must have heard it too. 

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Please take a second to leave a review if you're ready to see more. Guesses/requests/suggestions/ & questions all welcome.


	5. Not Very Nice

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters.

A/N: Thanks again to all the wonderful reviewers and, of course, you for reading. I can't tell you how much it's appreciated. Hope you enjoy this longer one!

Chapter 5: Not Very Nice

-00-

The sound came again: scratch. Scratch. Thump, Thump.

"What in bleeding hell?" Filch wheezed. Mrs. Norris was pawing incessantly on a cupboard, a cupboard from which there was loud banging resonating. Unreasonable ruckus for that time of night, Filch thought. "What is it, my love?" The caretaker asked his cat, lifting his lantern to the wooden door of the thing as if might give away its contents.

It wasn't the sort of banging of something bouncing about inside, like a Bogart. It could be Peeves, but it could be a student -someone out of bed after hours. There was something desperate about the rhythm. Something trapped. He reached out to open it.

He snapped his hand back as he recalled the face of Sirius Black on posters, the increased security in Hogwarts. It wasn't as if they hadn't had something deadly on the loose in the castle just last year as well, and a troll the year before that.

He resolved to fetch the nearest professor to address whatever it was with a wand. But as he turned, Mrs. Norris yowled and the banging grew more urgent. "Hello?" Filch tried. The noise stopped. He inched closer, sniffling. "Somebody in there?"

He started as rapid pounding responded.

"Who are you? What are you doing in there?" He asked. One of his hands neared the knob, the other lifted his lantern to hit whatever it was over the head if it came leaping out with fangs.

No answer. He shook his head. The cat was not willing to abandon it, though. Filch pressed his ear to the wood, but heard nothing. Taking a knee, with painful cracking, he put his eye as close as he dared to a little key hole. It was all darkness and then a flicker of yellow that made him gasp and fall backwards on his bony rear with a humph.

Looking again, the silent eyes showed a glimmer of something, seemed brown and less animal at second glance. They also seemed wet, welling with tears.

He tried the door, but could not force it open. His keys didn't match. "Wait here." He told the eye behind the keyhole. "I'll get help."

Banging resumed as he limped away. "I hear you!" he called to it. "I'll be right back."

He found Professor Lupin strolling the castle leisurely in the dead of night. Though odd, the man was friendly as ever, apologizing to the caretaker as Filch bumped into him rounding a corner.

"Professor!" He panted. "Better come. I think a student is in trouble."

Quite serious, Remus sprang forward the direction the caretaker had come. "Where? Show me."

"Up around on the fourth floor, to the right." He tried to keep up with the teacher, but could not. The man could move quickly when he wanted to, limp or no Filch noticed. "Cupboard!" He shouted ahead, knowing the other man would arrive first.

Filch found the professor thumbing his chin as he faced the closed wooden doors. "Alohamora!" He said harshly, wand at the ready, and the thing came open. Springing from it like a loosed animal came a small person. Lupin was quick again, Filch noticed, grabbing it around the middle with care.

"Hold on there." Long hair flying behind fell still and the first year it belonged to was visible. "How'd you get in there?" Lupin leaned down. The girl stared at the floor a few paces ahead. Mrs. Norris brushed against her knees. "Anna," Professor Lupin stooped even lower, a hand on her shoulder.

She turned to look at him, but her back was to Filch. He didn't hear a sound, but his hearing wasn't the best. If she answered her teacher, he missed the response. It was not often he felt sorry for the spoiled brats, but this one wasn't spoiled. She was small and quiet that one, the one who hadn't had shoes, locked in a cupboard.

"I'll take care of her, Mr. Filch." Lupin's voice said softly. "You owe Mr. Filch your gratitude." He told her. She turned to the caretaker, her fingers wrapped loosely around his cat's tail. She nodded, her eyes expressive. He nodded back. Remus Lupin led her away.

"Not very nice, my sweet." He told his companion as he turned the corner. "Not very nice at all."

-00-

Remus led Miss Green downstairs in the wrong direction from Ravenclaw tower, having deduced she would be locked out for the night. He did not bother to use a light. He knew the way in the dark even if his eyes had not been keener than the usual pair. He still felt like he was sneaking about at night, about to be caught and scolded.

He half thought he might turn a corner and run into Severus, which he had, or Sirius, which he may though it would be nasty, or even James, who he thought for one heart-stopping minute he had. Harry looked so like him. But James was dead, and so was Lily, and so was Peter, and when he crept the halls at night now, he wandered them alone.

He shook the thought from his head. He was not alone after all, and his odd behavior was probably confounding his company. Her feet pattered away trying to keep up with him until they made it to his office. Pushing the door open, he strode inside and went directly to his room. He rang the small bell on his table that he never bothered with and went back to his cabinets to rummage.

Once he had the little, emerald bottle he was looking for and some cloths, he turned to look for Miss Green. For a moment, he was puzzled.

She was hard to see, being rather short, waiting back by the door. "Come in." He waved to her as he prepared his things. She entered her bare feet making no sound. The air cracked, and an elf appeared.

"Yes, sir?" The little creature squeaked readily.

"Sorry to bother you so late this evening. A little hot chocolate I think, please." He winked.

"Two?" The elf asked. Remus just nodded. With another crack, the elf was gone. Remus approached the work table where Anna Green stood, hand on the corner.

He set down a tray. "Now," He lifted her up onto the table smoothly. "Let's have a look at that."

He'd smelled the blood more than seen it, a cut on her head mostly underneath the hair, a little on her lip or the back of her hand. He cleaned it with a spell, then rubbed on the solution. No wincing, no jerking away. She sat perfectly still, so strange for a child.

He offered her a small smile. "You know, it would be a good idea if you told me who did this to you." He placed one hand on either side of her, pushing his body out away from the counter to try and meet her eyes. "But you're not going to tell me, are you?"

She shook her head, curled ends bouncing. He sighed. He took her small hand, unfurling the fingers. "Let's get these splinters out at least."

When he removed the fifteenth one, there was another sudden noise and the smell of piping hot cocoa. "Thank you." He said without looking away from his work.

"My pleasure. Anything else, sir?" The elf asked.

"No thank you. Goodnight." The elf was gone. He handed her the hot cup. "Careful." He told her. "This will help; I promise."

She sipped it and gave a little sigh, moonlight catching a track of her tearstained face.

"You like chocolate?" He asked. She nodded, almost smiling. "Me too."

They watched the moon for a moment seeming to pass between the clouds as they drank. She set down her cup, looking sleepy, and pushed herself off the counter. It was a little drop, but she landed agile.

"You have somewhere to sleep?" He asked, taking their cups. She nodded. He put the cups in the sink of his preparation area and turned to say, "Good ni—"

The room was empty, the door soundless shut. It was as if she had never been there at all, or it would have been if her scent didn't still permeate the room. And that's when he thought for a moment something impossible. He thought he recognized the smell.

-00-

"Miss Green," Professor Flitwick was surprised to see her entering Hogwarts Choir practice, nudged along by Luna Lovegood. "I'm glad you're here." He piped cheerfully. It was true enough he was pleased, but he was more than bit puzzled. What was a mute child going to do in a choir? Still, Dumbledore had insisted they treat her as normally as everyone else. He looked quickly for a solution.

"Do you play?" He asked pointing to some instruments at rest to the right of the choir stands.

She ran her fingers over several, pausing on the smooth curves of a violin. "Here," the head of house plodded over to her. "Like this." He showed her how to hold it then handed it back. She mimicked him. "Chin down, arm out where you can see the strings. Hand open. Little finger, standing straight up. That's it." He instructed.

The warm wood with its glossy finish blended into her hair color beautifully, flowing together so it was hard to tell where one gold ended and the other began. But the color also seemed to match her gleaming eyes, such an unusual color, so unnatural that it almost made him want to look away.

"Can you read music?" She nodded. "Piano?" Another nod. He knew some orphanages had such things to occupy their time, time that should be spent with family. He pushed the unpleasant thought away.

"Here's the music for what we're going to do today. G, D, A, E are the strings here." He plucked them a fingernail as he named them. "And if we just…"

It took him a few minutes to explain where the notes would be and show her the ones needed for the song. It meant starting practice late, but he simply instructed one of his seventh years to lead the warm up. The music starting distracted Anna Green. Flitwick frowned. Her look was longing. It was like she wanted to sing. He wondered then if she did perhaps want to speak as well.

"Just practice reading," he recalled her. "Holding it correctly, and trying to make the bow and string get along for now; if you'd like to stay after, I can give you a quick lesson if you'd like."

He eyed her out of the corner of her eye during practice fighting with instrument to make the right notes, or any notes really. A few screeches disturbed the singers, but the older ones knew to overlook it. The lovely raven-haired Miss Worhold, an excellent soprano first year, seemed particularly annoyed.

Third year violinist from Hufflepuff, Susan Bones, seated next to Miss Green, whispered to her, "Like this with your fingers. Hurts at first. That's it." Miss Green smiled in thanks. Though difficult, Anna seemed to enjoy the music. He went to her when the final notes fell away.

"Well, how do you like it?" Flitwick asked, wishing immediately he'd phrased it as a yes or no question.

She sat the instrument on her knee with a sigh, shoulders sinking in response. He chuckled a little. "Beautiful and difficult. Like a woman." He winked. "The violin can make a wonderful sound, but the musician must be precise and very patient." Perhaps the instrument would be good for her. Her magic needed precision and patience, poise not strength.

She nodded obediently.

The lesson was brief. "If you'd like, you can come in here and practice from time to time." She raised an eyebrow in response. "Yes, indeed. Practice makes perfect. Today was a usual practice with the full choir, but on Thursday there will be a practice just for first years, including a short lesson. It will be twice per week before the regular practice for those interested, then just the normal, weekly practice. We lose quite a few that way, but keep those really interested. I'll see you Thursday?"

She nodded, carefully putting down the violin.

"Good." He squeaked.

From time to time, he'd pass the practice room late in the evening and hear the same struggling notes. Small fingers, pressed into the strings until they bled. He saw the callouses from her persistence when she silently gripped her wand in charms, not trying. She enjoyed the music so much; he could see it in her warm eyes during practices, like a fireplace burning on a chilly evening. Those eyes were calming and comforting. He thought, when he saw those eyes, how anyone could have ever been afraid.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading once more! I would really love to know what you think and that you are reading, so please take a few seconds to review! All feedback or just a quick 'up-date soon' is so welcome. I love to write for readers.


	6. Don't Jinx It

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. Thanks for letting us have fun with him, J.K.

A/N: Welcome you lovely, lovely readers. Enjoy!

Chapter 6: Don't Jinx It 

"Give us one o' those, Anna." Hagrid called, watching the child help by rolling the pumpkin along like a big wheel. He laughed. She smiled widely.

"Are you excited for tonigh'?" He asked as he stuck his knife in one pumpkin and began carving a jagged mouth. "Halloween is a very special night in the castle, you'll see. Here ya' go; carve that one up for me."

Taking a knife bigger than her hand, Anna gave a halfhearted jab at the pumpkin. It was barely blemished.

"No that won't do! Just imagine," he said with a wink. "It's that awful Sophia what shoved you in that closet and hid your shoes." He chortled at her scandalized expression. "Luna told me."

Anna tried attacking the pumpkin again. "Come on, now mean it." Hagrid teased. "Mean it."

Anna stabbed the pumpkin in the head with all her strength. She couldn't move the blade once it was inside, buried too deep. Hagrid laughed again, slapping his knee. He reached out, seizing the handle in his giant hand, and easily swiped it around the top. She pulled off the circle by the stem and set it aside, dipping her hands into the gooey insides. She scooped out the seeds, orange up to the elbows, splattering the apron he'd loaned her. Fang sniffed the mixture on the ground, licked it tentatively then abandoned it. He found Anna more appetizing.

"Fang, leave her be." Hagrid warned, focused on trying to keep his pumpkin from being cross eyed. Once Anna's pumpkin was emptied, she set to work, biting her tongue in concentration, on perfecting its face. "Now let's see it, master artist." Hagrid walked over when she was done. "A raven." Hagrid observed the cartoon outline of a bird. "Not bad."

She tugged off her apron, still smiling, and handed it to him. "Got to go, 'ave you?" She nodded. "Alright, see you tonight then." He watched her walk all the way back to castle, alone.

-00-

"Is everyone ready for this evening's feast?" Flickwick asked, tapping on the music stand with his wand.

The excited chatter of his choir hushed to murmurs of agreement. He beamed at them all, having been working hard with them over the past weeks. He thought tonight would come as a pleasant surprise to the school. From the top, they began.

At a few places, one violin was out of sorts. Notes would soar and hop playfully, but then, in the background, a tiny cringe interrupted the harmony for only a second. A few of his choir members were irked, but with each screech or squeak Anna's instrument made, Sophia Worhold seemed to grow increasingly livid. The dark haired girl had a beautiful voice and seemed to be personally affronted that anything would disturb their music.

Flitwick admittedly had thought of charming the violin just for tonight, to give his newest musician more confidence. Anna had been working so hard, but he had a sneaking suspicious she would notice if he did anything to it, so he did not. What was a small misstep here and there, really?

Ravenclaws had a well-earned reputation for being perfectionists, he well knew, but he had learned that being sensitive to the imperfections of others was the only hope of ever helping them overcome them. Being smart and being nice, Fillius had long said, were not mutually exclusive.

"If you know you're going to make a mistake, don't play those parts in the performance." Cho Chang, his Ravenclaw violinist suggested to Miss Green as they all dispersed until the feast. "The other violins will get it, so no one will know."

"Don't worry, you'll get it." Susan Bones smiled encouragingly. "The important thing is to enjoy yourself." Anna seemed unbothered, so their professor said nothing.

Perhaps, though, she was more difficult to read than he predicted, for when they were assembled in the Great Hall, he counted his group proudly, tapping the music stand again. It was time to begin, he gave a little cough, but he was one short. One violin was sitting alone.

There was no time to wait. They began. As their bewitching tune filled the hall, he wondered where Miss Green might be and if it had anything to do with Miss Worhold's beaming smile or whether that was just relief and enjoyment.

He was not the only one her absence bothered he knew because when they concluded, an upset Cho Chang approached her head of house, wringing her hands. "Professor? I feel really awful. I think I might have accidentally scared Anna away. Do you have any idea where she might be so I can go apologize?"

"I do not, my dear," he told her. "But if you do find her perhaps we would all benefit if you were to give her a few lessons, maybe even show her a little friendship?"

"Yes, sir." Cho nodded, still worried. Luna Lovegood too, who he'd seen helping the girl to a class when lost and sitting with in the common room, seemed to continue to look for the younger student throughout dinner.

Anna did not attend the feast. The charms professor was settled on going to look for her afterwards, but following the terrible news of the attack on the Fat Lady, he had to redirect his search to finding someone else entirely: Sirius Black.

-00-

Severus Snape wanted to be the one to find him. He wanted to see Black covering before him, tattooed and filthy and too thin, in the same halls were the boy and his best mate once tormented the lonely, young Severus. He wanted to see the fear in the eyes of Lily's betrayer, other betrayer, turn into hollow darkness as the dementors sucked out his twisted soul. Severus would smirk as it happened, maybe even laugh aloud.

The idea that the opposite might happen, that Black might hurt Potter right under the same roof as himself, would be the most unbearable failure. The boy may be an unbearable brat, but he was just a boy nonetheless, and boy the potions master had vowed to protect. Severus could not imagine seeing those green eyes staring blankly, lifeless, again. He did not want to come upon in the night, to carry inside, the small body of the boy he'd lifted from his crib as they both wept. Dumbledore's grief would be unbearable to watch, as would the horror of all the children that one of them was murdered in the castle. Hogwarts would no longer be considered safe.

He would have no reason to continue.

So to say that Snape stalked through the castle, wand out, as though his life depended on it would be literal.

He stopped short as he passed an open window.

"You shouldn't be here." He said, stepping out from the shadows. She jumped a little, which was rather dangerous considering she was sitting on a window sill, one leg dangling hundreds of feet from the ground.

He glanced around for Black, wand braced for attack, moving protectively to block the small figure sitting in the window. "All students have been moved into the Great Hall." He told her. She continued to sit looking down at the foggy, cool grounds through the dark. He leaned out the window, his form having to lean so close that his robes brushed her.

Looking at her dangling leg, swinging back and forth over the drop, he spied she was once again shoeless. He sighed. That's when he glimpsed something moving, down there in the mist. His head snapped towards her gold ones.

"Did you see something?" He asked quietly.

She nodded. Black might be out there then. The girl showed no fear, he noted with surprise. She might have been another foolhardy Gryffindor. His patience was gone; he did not have time to coax or force her off her perch.

"Come on." He picked the first year up and removed her from the window, closing it, latching it, as he set her on the stone floor. He strode quickly, so that she had to run to keep up. Finally, they reached the Great Hall.

"Professor," He whispered. He released her hand at the doors.

Dumbledore turned, his eyes twinkling as they fell on her small form not much higher than his waist. "Ah, I see you have located Anna."

"I think he's left the castle." Snape said darkly.

"Yes. I think you are right. I did not expect him to stay long." Dumbledore's voice was level, but deep. He sighed.

"Back to bed." Snape instructed her, shooing her away before he continued his conversation with the headmaster. The child turned and walked back towards the sea of sleeping students.

"Oh and Miss Green," the headmaster murmured, tipping his head down towards her, eyes twinkling over his glasses. "Happy birthday."

Severus and approaching McGonagall were surprised by this development. The small smile Anna offered was sweeter and more innocent than expected from such a child, whatever such that may be.

There was something strange about the child having a birthday that day—not just that it was Halloween, but also that it was the anniversary of the worst day of his life, and, he was reminded, probably of Harry's life and Remus Lupin's for that matter—the night of James and Lily's murder. It was not just that, though. It was also that until that night, he had not realized it was her birthday at all.

There had been no confetti-filled or singing cards, no parcels being piled at her table in the morning. There had been no birthday hats or crowns or badges in the halls. No singing from her house. No obnoxious cheerfulness from her in class, as it was usually when it was student's birthday.

There were more important matters at hand to discuss, naturally, but for some reason he could not put his wand on, it bothered him.

Even Severus had one friend at school. At least he had his mother, for a while.

He recalled what Dumbledore had said, about her family being murdered. Perhaps she had not always been neglected and alone. Perhaps she had once had birthday cakes and presents.

Then, he recalled what Lily had once done for him, a small gesture that had made him glow with happiness the way only she could. Something he would never forget.

One day late, on November first, Anna Green found at her bedside a cupcake lit with a single magical candle that would burn until she blew it out. It was dark chocolate with light blue frosting, proper Ravenclaw house colors.

Since professor Snape had more magical expertise than a third year student, even a gifted young witch like Lily Evans, he was able to add something else to the candle as well with a simple spell.

The note he handed to the house elf read: "Make a wish."-SS.

He did not need to include the instruction that if the she told anyone the wish, it would not come true. 

A/N: Hey you! Yeah you. Please leave a quick review and let me know what you think and what you want! Thanks for reading. Next chapter is ready to go once I get some feedback for this one.


	7. Friends, Foes, and Familiars

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters.

A/N: Thanks to all those who reviewed! Great to know who is reading and what you like/don't like. Here's a longer one-enjoy!

-00-

Chapter 7: Friends, Foes, and Familiars

-00-

"Well, well, well," A voice came out of the darkness. "I think she'll like it."

"Sure, if she likes toad ba – Ow!" Another voice was interrupted by a soft thud at the knees. Its source doubled over. Wand light illuminated three faces: two identical red headed fourth years and small blonde. It took a moment for one of them to form words.

"Hang on! What are you doing down here?" said Fred Weasley, rubbing his knee.

"You're just a first year, right?" George pulled the girl up from the ground with his spare hand. "You know where this leads?"

She shook her head, ends of her blonde hair curled, bouncing off her shoulders.

The twins exchanged mischievous grins. "Well then," Crossing his arms against his chest and leaning back to watch his game play out, Fred said, "Could lead into the forest."

"Could be dangerous." George emphasized, bouncing on his heels.

"_Very_ dangerous."

"Then again,"

"Could be a sweet shop."

"All locked up for the evening..." He grinned mischievously.

"Perfectly empty room stocked full will every treat imaginable."

"Guess it's up to you." George shrugged.

"If you're smart, you won't risk it."

"And you are Ravenclaw, right?"

"But then again, maybe you're a little more lion than you think, Ravenclaw." Fred pushed off the wall, walking around her.

George circled the kid as well, making her fidget. "You know, you're right brother. The golden mane." His fingertips brushed a lock of it.

"What's it going to be?"

"Forward or backwards?"

She looked them up and down, then peaked behind them down the tunnel.

Fred seemed to know what she was thinking. "Sure, we came from that way." He said slowly.

"But we're nutters." George smiled.

"Ask anyone."

She thought a moment, then sighed slightly. She walked past them down the dark passageway. They exchanged a look, eyebrows raised. As she began to disappear into the dark, they noticed she was barefoot again.

"Oi! Hold on!"

"We'd better go with you."

"Wouldn't want to be responsible for your gruesome death."

"Yeah, there's a crazed murderer on the loose, you know."

She reminded them of Ginny, in a way. She was small and a girl, but fearless. Their constant teasing didn't even slow her down. In fact, she seemed to like their since of humor. The trio made their way through the dark to the cellar of Honeydukes.

"Shh," Fred said pressing a finger to his lips as the crept towards the end of the passage.

"Yeah," George whispered to their little companion, his lips brushing her hair. "Shut it you, before you get us all killed."

The quivering air of a soft giggle was the only response. They could see nothing in the dark, not even their own pale, freckled skin. Fred climbed up, and they all listened. Then he pushed open the hatch.

"All clear." He whispered. George picked up the girl under her arms and placed her on the ladder which she climbed automatically. He followed. "Lumos," he whispered as he stood, illuminating stacks of crates along the walls of a cellar. She followed them up the creaking stairs.

"Here we are." The room was lowly lit, the glow hitting sparkling wrappers and packages. The chamber smelled soaked in sweet; all three inhaled deeply.

"What's your favorite?" One brother tossed a sweet in the air and caught it over and over like a ball.

She shrugged.

"Oh, come on. Everybody has a favorite." His twin was skeptical. "Have you ever had these?" He tossed her a toffee.

Fred's brow creased a little and his eyes darted to her bare feet. He'd seen them before, when she arrived: one of the most important days of her life, and they couldn't even bother with shoes. "Have you ever had any of these?" He asked softer.

She shook her head once, fingering some chocolate frogs as if they might disappear before her eyes. The twins exchanged a look.

"Right then, George," Fred said jovially. "I think you know what we must do."

"One of each then?" She frowned with concern, but Fred jingled a bag of their winnings from the last quidditch game. There was no discussion about how much to spend; a bag of coins was a small price to pay.

"Our treat." George offered. The twins shared the same idea. They had grown up without much money, but there had been sweets because they had decent parents. More than decent, actually.

If anyone had peaked inside the sweetshop at the lights dancing around the room, hitting the many-colored, teeth-rotting bits of joy, they would have also glimpsed three faces filled with the excitement usually only making appearances on Christmas mornings. They were literally kids in a candy store, but better than that, they were kids secretly in a candy store after bedtime. For one of them, it was an entirely new experience, so in the magical way of children, it was then new again for all of them.

They snuck back towards the castle, pleased with themselves.

"How is you walk so quietly?" Fred asked, stopping in his tracks. His twin did as well. She moved a few more paces ahead, not making a sound. Even the dirt didn't hiss being disturbed.

She looked back at them, then paused. She looked down at her bare feet, then at them as they watched. Smacking slightly on something, she stepped carefully back. She pointed at their feet.

"What the hell?" George looked to his brother.

"Why not?" Shrugged Fred. They peeled off their shoes and socks, tying the strings and hanging them around their necks. "Now what, oh-stealthy-one?"

She pressed her feet into the dirt, felt it, got a grip. The twins copied her, their long toes burrowing in the black earth like worms.

Careful, she took a step forward. Her foot lifted evenly and completely from the ground at once, but returned it one inch at a time, ball first, smooth like a rocking horse. At first, it was very slow going, but then, it became natural. They felt the earth's cool solid surface, everything on it movable and settled their gait into it rather than disturbing it. There was no sound until to stone opened and they were back inside the castle.

"Where shall we enjoy our stash?" One brother murmured, popping something into his mouth.

"You'll be done by the time we're there." Fred whispered back. A hand tugged his sleeve. She led them towards Ravenclaw tower, then took another turn they had not taken before; they liked to stay by their turf, even with the map. "You better know where you're going." Fred told her.

There was continuous climbing, past rafters; the air cooled. It grew darker, and then the little frame ahead of them pushed open a heavy door open. Wind hit them hard in the face. Blinking through it, they couldn't see anything but sky. Grey clouds, stars right in their face. They were up on the roof.

"Not a bad choice, Ravenclaw." Said Fred, feet hanging over the edge of the roof, wind whipping his ginger hair about. He shook it, smiling at this companions over his shoulder.

George laid back and looked at the stars, dropping beans in his mouth one at a time.

"Not bad at all. Gross, boogie." He spat one off the roof.

"Always you." His brother replied.

"Want one, Ravenclaw?" She shook her head. "Suit yourself. You know, you've got the potential to be a regular mischief maker, with the proper training."

"Yeah. What do you think about taking on this young apprentice in trouble making?" Said apprentice devoured another chocolate frog. Her mouth was smeared with it. The moon lit part of her up while the rest of her was in shadow.

"Well, we've got a tight schedule."

"Let's see." He stood. "Tonight's a full moon. I think we could spare full moons."

His brother stood too. "Yeah why don't we—"

"George!" They spun around as the howl ripped through the night air. The wind was no match for it.

"Did you see that?" He whispered as a figure scampered into the woods. "It was right at the edge of the forest."

"Blimey."

"Better only go exploring with us, little Raven."

She nodded, watching the spot where the wolf had been. The wind was trying her fine hair into knots. She looked like the wind might take her right off the thin ledge.

"We'd better go back inside."

Again, there was the animal's wail. Involuntary, a shiver ran through Fred down to his fingertips. They rested on her shoulder. She didn't shiver.

"Do you think we had better mention it to someone?" He whispered once they were inside.

"Oh yes," George answered sarcastically. "What shall we say? 'I was on the roof last night eating contraband candy when I think I saw a werewolf.'"

"What do you think, Ravenclaw. What should we say?"

Of course, she made no response. Fred clapped her on the back. "Right you are! We say nothing."

George winked as they parted ways from her in the dark, empty corridor. "Good thinking." His voice hung in the air as they turned the corner. "Silent as the grave."

-00-

"Some Ravenclaw," Remus heard a familiar voice scoff as some younger students rounded the corner. "She never even opens her mouth." The others laughed. He guessed who they were discussing, and thought it really rather disloyal and cold.

He surprised them, standing in their path with his arms crossed. They seemed to choke on their laughter, stopping short as to not walk right into their professor. "Perhaps some minds are apt enough to realize the benefit of keeping their mouth closed, Miss Worhold." He informed her simply.

"Yes sir." The dark haired Ravenclaw girl looked at the ground as she made her reply. Then, she and her friends scampered away. He hadn't been cross; he had not needed to be. It was fortunate too that Remus' emotional appeal was a look of saddened disappointment, rather than fear like Snape, and his temper slow since he was hardly recovered from the full moon.

Though _professor_ Snape's help –he reminded himself against of the man's collegiate status— providing the potion was a welcome relief, he had left the castle this past night against his better judgment, hoping that in the wolf form he might better track his ex-best friend turned fugitive. Not for the first time, he bristled at the thought of his misplaced trust, of being passed over as secret keeper, of not being able take Harry. There was the off chance Black, as he had become used to calling him for twelve years, would be waiting for him to come in the wolf form, in which case he was confident he could take the mutt down.

A soft retching sound interrupted his thoughts as he passed through an empty corridor. Students were in their next class by then, he on his free period, when he saw a small figure heading out of the girls lavatory, head down. Anna Green walked on from him avoiding eye contact, heading straight for window. She pushed open.

Remus suspected something immediately. She had been ill and was ghastly pale. The girl heaved in the fresh air, though the weather was awful and the rain blew in on her face.

"Are you alright?" Remus asked, looking rather pale himself. He was not expecting to take her by surprise. She should have sensed him already, heard him approaching.

He took another step forward, examining her closer. Even in the dim light, her eyes were golden, face dotted with rain drops. She licked her lips dry. Her hair was, he decided, exactly the color of honey from every dark shade to light. It should even smell sweet the resemblance was so strong.

He breathed in, and there was no scent of honey, but there was something familiar again. It was driving him mad.

The girl nodded, wiping her chin with her oversized sleeve. He sighed. It was like looking at himself years ago. How many times had classmates asked him that same question? The sickly smart one, he'd heard himself referred to not just a few times before James and Si—before James and Black had taken up with him.

Using his wand and some of his precious energy, he spelled her clean. Reaching down, though his back protested, he inspected her. No fever. No scratches either. Perhaps she had found a place to transform inside. He had not noticed signs of any other werewolves during the moon, and he had been looking for that as well. A young child could seriously endanger themselves or another unsupervised during the change. Perhaps Severus was making her a potion as well. He supposed he could ask the potions master.

He was standing very close to her and the window now, leaving enough space that the nervous little thing didn't dart away, trying to give him most concerned smile. The wind whipped inside, chilly, and with it another scent. Remus lunged at the window, sticking his head out. The weather was terrible, making it hard to see, but the wolf knew he was outside, somewhere below.

Sirius Black.

He slammed the window shut. Something was wrong. The smell was not gone.

Eyes wide, he turned to her. Someone, not him, had let Black into the castle on Halloween. That was the night Snape had found her in the castle.

She had seemed to know Remus' secret too…somehow.

His dog scent was definitely on her.

She would not have known the Gryffindor password, nor been able to tell him if she had, which would explain how Black got in, but couldn't get into the common room, attacking the fat lady.

His mind rushed, had Black sought out a child in his dog form and tricked her? Or had he come across her as a wolf while looking for Remus and seized the opportunity—that is if she was even a wolf at all? Was she willingly helping him?

What did he know, really, about her, about the murder?

He needed answers. Grabbing hold of her slender wrist, he made for the Headmaster's office.

-00-

A/N: Do you guys think you've got it figured out? What did you think of the twins' appearance? Do you prefer the longer chapters? Please let me know in a quick review. Looking forward to posting the next chapter soon if you're interested. It was especially fun.


	8. Strange Even for Hogwarts

Disclaimer: Please see previous. I do not own HP and make no profit.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews and feedback! Here's a new one, even a little longer than last time. Can't wait to see what you think!

Chapter 8: Strange Even for Hogwarts

-00-

The Headmaster seemed convinced the girl had felt sympathy for a stray dog— Hagrid had, apparently, mentioned she shared his soft spot for all things furry and multi legged. She had picked up Black's scent taking him some food, Dumbledore insisted, as if there could be no other explanation. Naturally, Remus could not argue with that. What possible reason would the child have to purposely aide the convict?

She was born after the war, after Harry, after Sirius went to prison. She had lost her family, so it wasn't their influence. What's more, her knowledge of Black's animagus form would go no further than the room, for obvious reasons. She was not going to tell anyone, and if she did, she risked being punished for aiding and abetting a criminal.

He was powerless against the old man's sure smile.

Nonetheless, he was on his way to test her for lycanthropy in his office when they were intercepted by the aloof blonde Ravenclaw in Harry's year.

"Oh, there you are," Luna Lovegood smiled vaguely at Anna. "Professor Flitwick is looking for you. Excuse us, professor." She extended her hand to her housemate.

Anna looked up at him, gold eyes wide and innocent, asking if it was okay, if he was angry with her. He gave her a reassuring smile and pushed her gently towards her friend. "Go on, then."

As the girls walked away- both shoed this time, he noted- he heard the older girl ask, "Where have you been anyway?" He shook his head. Did she honestly expect a reply?

With little more information than when he'd set out, Remus Lupin redirected his aching, now tried legs to the dungeons. He located professor Snape, who was none too happy to see him, in the potion master's store room.

"Professor?" He asked as friendly as he could. Snape paused mid stocking to acknowledge his presence, nothing more. Remus continued, "I wondered," He cleared his throat, looking around to make sure no one was hanging around. "If you had brewed what you had been so good as to brew for me for anyone else in castle recently?"

"No of course not," The man all but spat. He stopped short of placing a nasty looking jar on his store shelf. "Why? Do you suspect we have another…_afflicted_ amongst us?" He asked quietly.

"I thought it was possible," Remus said with a shake of his head. "But things have been so strange this year, haven't they, even for Hogwarts?" He leaned against the wall behind him. Snape glared, as usual, but it was a thoughtful glare.

"Indeed," he finally agreed. "Even for Hogwarts."

"The headmaster thinks I needn't worry, but there's something he's not saying. I only want to help the student to be responsible, if I'm write in my suspicions."

"Who do you suspect?"

Remus contemplated not telling Snape his inkling. The poor girl has enough to put up with very much by herself, not unlike Harry. Still, letting help discerning whether she needed their help might not be a bad idea. It was not as if he were revealing his original worry—that the girl had someone helped Black get into the castle.

"Anna Green." He said. Severus Snape's eyes flashed for a moment with something that instantly disappeared; shortly thereafter, so did he, with a spin of his robes and his door pulled shut with a snap. What had that glimmer of emotion been, Remus wondered. He knew he recognized it. Was it ...anger? No. Betrayal?

Remus shook his head again.

Things were strange even for Hogwarts.

-00-

Aloysius Grant was a very small first year Hufflepuff. He wasn't sure exactly how he'd gotten into that house, but he wasn't complaining. Aloysius did not really complain. Then again, maybe that's why he was in Hufflepuff.

The other students seemed to think of Hufflepuffs as happy-go lucky, evergreen, optimistic, cheery types. They were born in sunshine like their house color and preferred to see things through rose colored glasses.

From being at Hogwarts only a couple of short months, Aloysius knew that was not the case. Hufflepuffs were often born in homes where things were no to so happy go lucky or bright. That's why they sought out the friendliness and comradery, the sunny color.

He was a pureblood, so he could have been in Slytherin like his dad, but his mom was a Gryffindor, so he could have been in that too. He knew he was not especially Ravenclaw material. The fact his parents were in rival houses was little known in the school; he was much more interesting than most people knew. Most Hufflepuffs were.

There was more to Anna Green than most people knew, Aloysius thought. He had seen her levitate an entire room once, for starters, after Charms one day. He also knew that people who never said anything, like his Gran or Anna, usually had a lot to say. He didn't like the way some of the students hid her shoes like they did Looney Lovegood's or made fun of her. Then, he saw her hand a cat toy to Mr. Filch. The man mostly yelled at her, or as much as he could through his wheezing, but it didn't reduce how pleased she looked with herself. That type of behavior wasn't just interesting-it was downright weird.

That's why he followed her into the woods.

She wasn't afraid of the half giant Hagrid or his massive dog as he often spotted them together while he was out walking the grounds with his friends. And who walked into the forbidden forest alone? But she wasn't a Gryffindor, he also noted, so there had to be a reason. There had to be something she was afraid of, something more to her.

He followed her step by step a few paces behind, jumping behind a tree when he thought she might catch sight of him. When he stepped out from behind one big Ash tree, she was gone. He walked around the tree slowly. There was no sign of her.

And he realized he was alone in the forest.

And he was not, he reminded himself, a Gryffindor. He inched back towards the direction he'd thought they'd come, where there seemed to be more light.

A face appeared in front of him, hanging upside down. He gasped and fell backwards. Anna giggled, hanging by her knees from a tree branch.

"Yeah ha ha," He tried to scowl, standing and dusting himself off. "Very clever. How'd you get up there, anyway?" He asked, looking up in the tree, curious.

She bent at the middle, reaching up and grabbing the branch with her hands. Dropping her legs, she dangled there by her arms like an ape. It was not particularly high, but he knew from experience the drop would hurt her knees. Without hesitation, he grabbed her around the knees, hugging them to him. She let go; he felt from the weight change, and he let her go, planting her on her feet.

She stared at him as if he was a very interesting plant, then put her hand to her chin. She extended the hand from there a moment and dropped it back to her side.

Realization dawned. She had signed 'thank you'. He knew a little sign language from his Gran, so he said "you're welcome". She smiled, looked up at the branch where she had hung, then tugged his yellow scarf playfully.

"Yeah," He laughed tentatively, believing he knew what so meant. "I am a Hufflepuff after all I guess."

He followed her meandering through the trees again. "So what are you doing?" He called. "How'd you get up there?"

Of course, she didn't respond. He had hoped for some answer, even if it wasn't spoken. Instead, he followed her on through the woods though he started to get swatted by branches and kicked up dirt around his ankles. It was over a mile, he guessed, that he followed her. He wondered if they were going to be late for dinner. Still, he followed because if she was leading him somewhere, she must have something to show him. He bet it was going to be interesting.

There was a weird noise to his right, rustling in the brush that sounded like something big. He jumped, gasped a little, felt the need to sprint, but she didn't.

"Are you sure you're not a Gryffindor?" He asked.

She nodded, shooting him a smile over her shoulder.

"Then what are you afraid of?" Abruptly she made a left turn, beating her way through brush for a moment, then they were in a clearing of mostly ferns. In the center was a huge tree of some kind—not every Hufflepuff knew herbology— with wide, sprawling, low hanging limbs. It was the most tempting of climbing trees.

He rushed forward, racing her and winning. They climbed the tree, stretching out on one of the fattest branches. He sat with his back on the trunk, legs out. She laid on her belly, legs crossed behind her. From their height, they could see the lake. A few spiders hung around them like décor.

"Best tree?" He asked, hands folded behind his head.

She nodded and smiled again. She was pretty when she smiled. Well, she was pretty anyway, Aloysius thought with a slight blush.

"So what are you afraid of?" He pressed.

She considered it a minute, then indicated their surroundings with a swing of her head. "The woods?" She made the smallest inclination of the head.

"Why?" He asked. She couldn't say, of course. They watched it grow dark. It was only then he realized they were trapped outside. In the forest. After dark.

The air grew cold, and he shivered. He told himself it was just the cold.

The sounds that came out of the forest were worse than the creaking of trees and hooting of birds. Things screamed, actually screamed. There were crawling sounds too, like dozens of spiders scurrying in the black around them. There was howling in the distance and a thundering sound like hooves.

He was swallowed by the darkness, and all that was left was he sound of his breathing and hammering heart. He tried to keep his footsteps quiet. That's when he lost her.

"Anna!" He whispered urgently into nothing. "Anna!" A small hand grabbed his and led him blindly.

Ahead there was a crash. A big one. Anna froze. The sound grew louder, closer, like something was demolishing the trees ahead. His hand sweat. A bright light broke through, blinding him.

"There you ar'!" The groundskeeper's dog barked. Letting out a relieved sigh, Aloysius broke into nervous laughter. Hagrid led the pair back to castle with some lighthearted admonishment. Aloysius was not afraid. There was something about traveling with a big man, a big dog, and a friend that made him feel immune to the dangers.

Once safely inside the castle, it was far past dinner. To repay her the favor of sharing a secret place, Grant took hold shyly of Anna's hand and to her surprise led her somewhere. The fat friar greeted them cheerfully overhead as he took her to the portrait of fruit near the Hufflepuff common room and tickled it, opening the kitchens.

While the rest of the castle slept, the elves were still excitedly working. A few stopped to pipe a happy greeting. The boy led her directly to a pile of snacks. The two munched happily while elves offered them cakes, which they politely declined.

That is until one pointed to a giant chocolate in the middle of the room. Each tier was lined with strawberries.

For a moment, the two gapped. "Strawberries." He moaned, wondering if she shared his weakness.

Looking at him mischievously, she licked her lips. They attacked the cake together, smiling over mountains of sweet chocolate and juicy berries. It took a while to make a dent in it, but there were not shy. He thanked the elves as Anna slipped over to the side again, perhaps snagging something for later.

He wiped her face of the evidence she missed. Her lips were bright red. Again, she touched her chin, pulling her hand away from it.

"You're welcome." He said.

They entered the corridor, parting ways as new found friends. When his back was to her and he was about to turn the corner, he heard behind him a meow.

"What have we here, my sweet?" Filch the detention happy squib had crossed paths with her. Young Mr. Grant hid behind the corner wall, watching ready to jump in and save her if the occasion called for it, but to his surprise, Filch saw the girl alone and sniffed, "You best get out of here, Miss." Mrs. Norris brushed against her ankles. "Someone might see you and then you'll be in trouble."

His eyes widened.

She had befriended the enemy-of-all-students through his cat, and it had paid off; kindness was a source of power. The Dark Lord knew blood and connections brought power, like and Slytherin, and he probably guessed brains and bravery could, but kindness had the advantage of always being underestimated.

He rolled his eyes, heading to his common room. What a Hufflepuff move.

-00—

It was the cold that got to him. The cold bit and gnawed, like a hungry, living thing. The wind howled, the water soaked through to his bones, it seemed. But it wasn't as bad as it had been.

The loneliness was worse. The loneliness pressed on his chest like a stone, ripped holes in the rags of what was left of him like he was Swiss cheese. But it wasn't as bad as it had been.

Certainly, when his oldest friend had been close enough to hear, his godson close enough to smell, he'd nearly howled with aching. But he could see the sky where he was now, even if those _things_ did cross it soundlessly, making him shudder, but their cold breath wasn't wrapped around him constantly, bearing down on him all the time. At least he could breathe. He still shivered, but he stretched out on his back full length, peaking at the stars when the curtain of clouds shifted.

Out there, in that free, cold air where he could run miles, see for miles, he would breath his fill of freedom, until he finally got the chance to kill that filthy rat he'd been imprisoned for killing, and maybe, just maybe, he'd tell Harry the truth. He deserved the truth, Remus too. The hunted man's stomach writhed and moaned against his ribs. Patience a little while longer, he told himself.

Patience was never Sirius Black's strong suit.

Being not in his dog form, he did not smell anyone coming. He heard the brush disturbed but by then it was too late to run. He grabbed his rags about him, wishing for the millionth time he had his wand.

A small girl came into his clearing. He breathed a sigh of relief. Here wand was out, but she looked barely big enough to attend Hogwarts. Still, she walked towards him unabashed.

"Careful there," He warned her, but his weak form could only hope to intimidate her by seeming mad. Seeming? He let out a sharp laugh. "I'm dangerous, you know?"

He wasn't about to run from this runt looking at him with all the curiosity one watches a butterfly. She approached him unfazed as he backed up against a tree trunk.

"Now, I—I'm warning you." He cringed at his own desperate stutter. He was not really going to hurt a child, and he knew it. This foolish girl was probably planning on taking Black in and becoming a hero. Gryffindor, no doubt, he thought. He'd be kissed before he had a chance to explain. Perhaps Dumbledore would even let Harry and Remus watch. The last image he saw would be the hate in their faces.

She was close to him then, very close. He could see her eyes were gold like her hair, not brown but gold. Strange. So this was how it ended, some tiny girl with lion eyes marching him half naked up to the castle, wand at his throat—if she could even reach his throat.

She stopped. He looked down and saw in her hand the most miraculous thing he'd seen in twelve years: a small cake and a fat sausage.

-00-

A/N: Plot thickens. As always, reviews needed. Recognize my little Hufflepuff from before? Let me know what you thought of him, Siruis's appearance, Severus weird behavior, and if you're ready for more!


	9. Finals

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters. Not mine. No copyright infringement intended. No profit made.

A/N: And we've made it to December, folks—at Hogwarts, that is. Thanks so much to my faithful readers and reviewers! I cannot tell you how much I appreciate you and cannot wait to bring all this together. Wrote the final chapter the other day to this, and I have to say, I'm excited. And do please take second to leave a review-IT'S MY BRITHDAY!

* * *

Chapter 9: Finals

* * *

"Professor?" A pretty, dark headed Ravenclaw, one of the top in her year, raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Worhold?" The transfiguration teacher inquired.

Sophie Worhold continued, "I'm curious, professor. Since our practical examinations are a few days away, well," She hesitated, uncomfortable under the weight of questions.

"Yes?" Minerva pushed.

"Well, I just I don't think it's fair." She admitted. "Anna doesn't answer questions, and she only turns in the written assignments. It's not fair she gets the same marks as everyone else without having even do the hard part of the exam." She bit her lip, but did not withdraw the question even under professor McGonagall's stern eye.

"I see. Well, _Miss_ _Green_ I think you will find does in fact answer questions."

"But only yes or no ones." Another Ravenclaw boy added, then quickly shut up as narrowed eyes snapped his way.

"It's not as if she ever has to explain like the rest of us." Sophie expanded.

"I understand." Professor McGonagall glanced at Anna. For the first time, the child looked afraid. "Miss Green will be taking the practical examination along with everyone else, so you need not worry, Miss Worhold, and can focus all your energies on preparing for your own exam."

"Yes ma'am." Her professor was quick enough to catch the smirk sent in Green's direction even if they didn't think she still could.

She sighed, worrying over what to do about the exam administration. She liked to test the first years in a group, found it took the edge off a bit. She asked Albus if she might tutor Miss Green beforehand or if that would be unfair.

"Professor Flitwick is her house leader; he has been working with her on wand magic. She will do her best, I'm sure. Treat her no differently than you would anyone else." The headmaster had repeated.

"But if she doesn't speak Albus…and she hasn't practiced … let alone in front of a room of students who have been teasing her." She whispered at the staff table.

"Who? Who has been teasing her?" His voice changed. Professor McGonagall noticed his change in attitude, but did not remark.

"Remus told me he found her locked in a cupboard." Dumbledore frowned, thoughtful in silence.

"We had better take care not to let that happen." He said. A moment later, he seemed to snap out of it. "Treat her as you would anyone else."

Minerva McGonagall pressed her lips together tightly, but said nothing further.

-00-

"Miss Green," Professor McGonagall began her exam. "Would you care to go first?"

Students shifted in their seats, all eyes on Anna Green. Their teacher ignored the ripple of murmurs. Anna hesitated. For a moment, Minerva was afraid she might not move at all. "Please come to the front." She instructed plainly.

As if trying very hard to make her stiff limbs move, Anna came to the table. "Now, do try to relax, dear." McGonagall said softly. "Take out your wand."

"First," She said so everyone could hear. "I would like you to transfigure this toad into a stone. This is very difficult, though not as difficult as the opposite, so I'm not going to fail you if you can't do it. I'll mostly be grading annunciation, posture, wand movement, and effort."

"Well, I can think of one of those she'll miss." Someone sneered quietly.

"Silence, please! Go on, Miss Green."

The child held both ends of her wand in her hands, pressed against her. She leaned forwards as if to ask if she must.

"Professor Dumbledore said to just to your best."

At this, she seemed surprised, but took out her wand, holding it at the ready. "Good form." McGonagall complimented, much at a loss of what else to do or say. Never in all her years of teaching had she been in such a situation.

Miss Green she seemed to be concentrating very hard for a long breathless moment, then she dropped her gaze and wand.

McGonagall found herself a little disappointed. She hadn't realized she'd been hoping maybe the silence would finally break. "Just give it a try, my dear." She pushed, her tone a little thwarted. Behind Anna's back, several of her classmates shook their heads.

McGonagall pursed her lips and stood, rounding the table to the student's side. Anna bent down, eye level with the object. It was only then Minerva noticed. She _had_ tried.

The tiny stone toad was such an exact tiny statute of its model, the professor had not actually realized it had been turned to stone. She floundered for a moment. "Well done." She managed with a curt nod.

"She helped her." A student behind them somewhere whispered.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw!" She was not going to have students accuse her of cheating. "Now," She cleared her voice for everyone to hear as she again rounded the desk. On a platter sat a square biscuit. "Transfigure this into a pillow." She leaned forward a little in her seat to whisper to Miss Green. "Try hard."

Changing size could be tricky. Anna collected herself for a moment, wrinkling her nose, and then gracefully flickered her wand.

"Oh!" Minerva leapt from her seat just in time. The table wasn't big enough for the armchair appearing on it, and it nearly toppled over onto her teacher. She clutched her chest shrinking it back down to size almost before anyone could get a word out. "Well!" She caught her breath. "No showing off. Take a seat."

The rest had their chance, some panicked and were all but unable to perform. In the end, it totaled a handful of proper cushions, half a dozen messy pin cushions, one stone biscuit, and Sophie Worhold's silk pillow.

For the final part of the test, Minerva took around to each of them a silver bucket. Over the bucket was suspended a single, large leaf. On the green leaf sat a drop of water. They were to turn the drop of water, a liquid, into a solid pebble without effecting the leaf. This was what she really wanted to see. Transfiguration skill varied in changing animated things to stone, objects into other useful objects, but there was need to know if witch or wizard could control their focused energy on a single item without destroying or altering the substance anything else. It was usually simple, especially having warmed up in front of the others.

Though one person managed to make a dollop of mud that fell into the bucket and another turned the leaf into water once, most students managed it, and the bottom of the pail was covered with little pebbles when she finally reached Anna Green's desk.

"Concentrate." The professor said quietly. Anna's warm eyes— like tea, Minerva thought— met her own, and the girl nodded. Those eyes reminded Minerva of someone, but she quickly forgot, much more concerned with the bucket in hand.

There were no words, of course, just the faint tinkle of the pebble falling amongst the others. The class gave a collective sigh of relief that the exam was over, and she dismissed them.

Before she waved her wand over the contents of the bucket, turning it back to water, she happened to glance down as something caught her eye, a glint in the light. She lifted from the top a teardrop-shaped gem. It was deep blue and perfectly clear.

She examined it in the light as the class exited. She admired the thing a moment, but then hid it. Showing off was one thing, but could Miss Worhold actually create something of this…no. It wasn't her.

"Miss Green?" Anna Green appeared at her instructor's desk again, her face wiped clean of any indication she knew what she had done. The transfiguration professor gave her the most curious look, then held out a closed hand. Anna opened her own expectantly and outstretched it.

"I thought you might like to keep this." Minerva dropped the gem into the small, white palm.

Anna looked up quickly, uncertain if she was in trouble. Minerva offered her a tight smile to reassure her, then went back to her grading. When she looked back up from her notes, Anna's long hair was following her out the door. The light hit the gem again now sitting on her desk.

-00—

"It's Anna Green." Professor McGonagall dropped the blue gem into Professor Dumbledore's hand. He would understand the simple exercise, she knew. She'd done it before, as had many transfiguration professors before her. Albus had even once discussed how much he liked that method. "Her toad turned to a stone was an identical stone toad." McGonagall did not bother to keep the concern out of her voice, though to be honest it was shock bordering on alarm. "She lost control of the pillow completely." Here she threw up her hands.

The teacher went on, holding on hand to her body. "She made an entire armchair, Albus." She finished worriedly.

He stared at the stone, holding it up to the light.

"It's flawless." He said after a minute.

"Yes. I examined."

"Beautiful. Sapphire?"

She shook her head, annoyed. That was beside the point. "Diamond. Blue diamond. And the chair…I didn't say but, it was _my_ armchair, Albus. The one in my private quarters." He looked at her over his spectacles. "I'm certain she's never seen it before." She almost whispered though they were alone.

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, handing the stone over. "Yes." He seemed unsurprised. She tried not to let that bother her. "Filius said she levitated a room full of feathers and chairs accidentally. It can be rather alarming."

"This has happened before?" Students often had accidents such as this under stress or when discovering a particular strength in a subject, but it was accidental magic; it wasn't this specific or consistent. Certainly there were gifted students and students whose magic seemed to be stronger than others, but Miss Green had seemed so, well, surprised as well. Perhaps that was what was unnerving McGonagall. She did not seem to have control.

"Now you see the particular challenge with Anna." The headmaster pressed his fingertips together. "Most children we see," He looked at her but also far away. "Have some magical ability. We help them flesh it out, amplify it, channel it productively, control it. Anna could easily do, I would hazard a guess, anything you asked her taught in the first three years or so. Her challenge, why it's so important for her you be here, is she needs our help,"

"To control it." She finished for him.

"Indeed."

"Then, I can't treat her as I would any other student! She's not like any other student."

"As you must." His back was to her, his voice low as he fed Fawkes.

She was turning to go, but she hesitated, clutching the blue stone tightly. "Is her name even Anna Green?"

"Her name is Anna."

-00—

Sirius took a bite of his apple. He'd already scarfed down the sandwiches the kid had nicked for him. Having had his fill of water from the stream—fresher than the lake and more private—he was more than happy to have his delivery of long needed nourishment.

"How is it you're not afraid of me?" He asked. He wished she'd speak. It had been ages since anyone had said a word to him. Well, the other inmates sometimes screamed. And a few people had spoken to his dog form—'go away' or 'who's a good boy?', that type of thing—but he so longed to hear a human voice. She wouldn't say a word.

"You have a death wish?" He crunched on the fruit again.

She shook her head.

"I just can't figure out how you knew I wasn't just a dog." He thought aloud. "You don't talk at all or should I be personally affronted?"

She shook her head again, pressing her lips together as if to indicate her silence. "Really?" He laughed, beaming at the company, regardless. "Why not?"

It took a moment She reached into her pocket and handed him a news clipping. He took it, thinking he knew what it was about him, but it was not.

_"Family slaughtered. Muggle Thomas Green took his family of four on a camping trip Thursday, July 31__st__, and ended it by killing his wife, son, and then himself at Green Leaf Ridge. His step daughter survived the attack. Her name is not being released at this time. She is recovering. No motive has been discovered at this time and friends of Thomas are astounded. Some reports that Thomas had been treated for alcoholism have surfaced, but it is unknown if he had been drinking at the time."_

"That's you?" He asked. She nodded, taking it back. She folded it with care and put it back in her pocket. He blew out a long breath of air. "I'm sorry." She nodded in acceptance, eyes on the ground as it were interesting.

"I'm innocent, you know?" He said after a while. He knew his protests, his twelve year mantra, fell on deaf ears. He said it only to say something, knowing she'd leave soon. To his surprise, she nodded. "You do?" He almost fell forward. "How?"

She thought for a minute, then bent down over a patch of undisturbed powder. In the snow, she began scribbling. He was craning his neck when she withdrew another paper and tossed it at him. She pointed to the word "Peter" then her symbols in the dirt.

She had drawn a square, next to it a compass of north, south, east and west. On his knees, he studied it. "A map!" He nearly shouted. "The map?" She nodded, smiling as he took her shoulders. "You have it?"

No. Damn. They were both disappointed. "Harry! Harry or Remus have to get the map, Dumbledore or someone. If they see Peter, they'll know! Can you try to get that to happen, my clever friend?" Perhaps he had not lost his charm after all.

She nodded again, smiling tentatively. "Haha!" He gave her a loud smacking kiss on the cheek. Maybe he could get though to to them before they could hex him after all. She reached into her deep pockets and pulled out another gift. Soap and toothbrush. He shook with laughter, getting only an urgent finger pressed to her lips in return.

The noise attracted them, the burst of happiness. They swarmed like angry hornets. He had not felt the approach at first because it was already so cold. Swooping down, greedily. She couldn't outrun them, and he knew she wouldn't know a patronus charm yet. Knowing it was a betrayal of trust, he grabbed her wand.

Concentrating very hard on the smiling faces of James and Remus, he shouted, "Expecto patronum!"

The charm allowed them some cover. He told her to run, transforming back into a dog. She grabbed the wand, looking back at him with some unreadable expression, then raced off into the forest back towards the castle. He drew them away, running deeper into the forest. He'd follow her tracks later and make sure she made it back, he told himself, whoever she was. Anna, he recalled, her name was Anna.

-00-

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A/N: Who would you like to see more of next? It's Christmas, after all. Your wish is my command. Now, click, click. you can do it. happy birthday to me.


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